the crescent moon is rising slow

swiftly blades in ice do grow

on the branches star-bleached snow

waits while time is passing



outside the door the dancer whirls

chiming bells and shining curls

flying footsteps in the snow

rhyme the rhythm of ruin



beside the wall the beggars call

"Man have mercy on us all"

the night-bound choir inside chants on --

a hymn to brick and pistols



you can stumble, you can fall

or you can make the nations crawl

but when death comes in to call

he don't care about it.



oh, Satan take thy cup away

for i'll not drink your wine today

i'll reach for the chalice of light

that stands on Jesus' table.



(23/II/75)